


In which Stiles is out of journalism school

by VirtualCarrot (Kaoro)



Series: Teen Wolf tumblr ficlets [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoro/pseuds/VirtualCarrot
Summary: Stiles needs insight on small town news and if that means pestering Derek, then two birds, one stone. (Actually two birds with one stone would make a great filler item now that he's thinking about it)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf tumblr ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643803
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	In which Stiles is out of journalism school

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles' a journalist, who cares about canon, not I

“Come on Derek, give me something, anything.”

“No.”

“You have to have heard something of interest. You know, with the — ” He trailed off, cupping a hand around his ear as if to listen to a distant sound.

“Why don’t you ask Scott, he also has ‘the’ — ” Derek drawled, imitating the gesture with a derisive sneer.

“Scott has morals.”

“Does insulting people ever go your way?”

“I didn’t say not having any was a bad thing.”

“That’s because you have a twisted perspective on life.”

Stiles slumped over the kitchen counter. “Come on, if I don’t start bringing some info to the newspaper Thompson is going to seriously reconsider hiring me.”

“And why did he hire you again?”

Stiles scowled at him. “Because I’m actually good at my job.”

“Good at bugging me to do it for you, you mean.”

“Fuck you.”

Stiles sounded genuinely upset. Derek sighed, grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and nudged it closed with his heel. He set a glass of it in front of Stiles with too sharp motions and made sure to spill some milk so that he didn’t have to hear mock-cooing noises about his unexpected kindness. That was the way most of their interactions went, basically: appeasing one another and pretending to be angry about it.

Derek crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, listening as Stiles made appreciative noises into the milk because he was a grown up man — grown up  _ young _ man, overgrown child, who was he kidding — who still drank plain milk and didn’t bother looking embarrassed about it. Derek had once offered to heat up some for him and would he like some honey too, darling? Stiles had been too focused that day on whatever it was he did on that phone of his, and Derek’s sarcasm had flown completely over his head: he had accepted absently and Scott had had to excuse himself to choke on laughter in the hallway. Derek hadn’t offered again.

When things got rough though, Stiles sometimes found himself handed a glass of sweetened, lukewarm milk. They didn’t talk about it.

“Why don’t you go out and investigate?” Derek asked, picking up the empty glass to rinse it in the sink. He turned on the tap and lowered it so that Stiles wouldn’t feel like shouting over the sound of thundering water on metal.

Stiles wiped at the drops of milk on the counter with his index finger, catching more than a few crumbs with it. He looked briefly grossed out and rubbed his fingers together.

“Because I already have. Because I found out the nice couple staying at the East Inn is, you know,  _ hunters _ and I can’t talk about it for reasons. And I figured out part of the pattern of the break-ins going on in the suburbs, and I can’t talk about it either before the police make a move!”

He drummed his fingers on the counter, breathing heavily after his outburst. Derek watched him bite the inside of his cheek and felt himself waver.

Of course.

He rolled his eyes at himself. “Mrs. Melvin’s dog was run over yesterday.”

“YES!” Stiles shouted and threw his arms up.

Derek sighed, looking pained. “I wish I didn’t know you sometimes.”

Stiles met his eyes, something sharp in his own, a bit too clever. “Only  _ sometimes _ , eh?” he said and smiled a small, satisfied smile this shy of bashful. He wriggled to grab a small notebook out of his back pocket. The stool he was perched on swayed alarmingly.  


“Most of the time,” Derek amended, but he looked fond.

They shared a look, something meaningful there, charged and maybe too real for comfort yet. Stiles shook his head and tapped his pen to the paper. “Okay, I’ve got a news item to write. Now spill!”  


Derek rolled his eyes and did.


End file.
